


Helping Hand

by MelayneSeahawk



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-28
Updated: 2008-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelayneSeahawk/pseuds/MelayneSeahawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>john didn't think he took a real breath until they were back in atlantis and rodney was on his way to the infirmary. maybe not even then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: verdure/verdant, wire, metacarpals

Normally, John would have enjoyed the verdant green of the foliage rushing by in the window of the puddle jumper, but it clashed horribly with the slight green tinge to Rodney's complexion, and it was the latter that he was more focused on. The normally verbose scientist was silent, only letting out a slight whimper every so often, and John was worried. He urged the little ship to go faster.

John had thought his heart was going to stop when he heard the crashing noise from the abandoned lab Rodney had been investigating. He'd hurried in, Teyla on his heels, to see Rodney with his hands caught in some machine. Any jokes—he had a good one about cookie jars—flew right out of his head when he realized Rodney wasn't complaining. Very bad sign.

It had taken both he and Ronon to lift the whatever-it-was that had trapped Rodney's hands, but the scientist wasn't even able to move them on his own when they were free. Teyla had gently supported Rodney's hands as they ran back to the puddle jumper. John didn't think he took a real breath until they were back in Atlantis and Rodney was on his way to the infirmary. Maybe not even then.

***

"So, what's the verdict, Doc?" John asked as he walked into the infirmary.

"Dr. McKay crushed the metacarpals and some of the phalanges in both hands," Keller said, matter-of-factly. She and one of the nurses were splinting and casting each of Rodney's fingers. "The scanner indicated that—"

He saw Rodney's flinch and cut her off. "We get the point," he said quickly. "Is he going to be alright?"

"He's going to be miserable for a few weeks while the bones knit," she said, finishing the fingers of Rodney's right hand and starting to wrap his palm. "But luckily the bones didn't move much, so they should heal just fine without having to put in rods or anything to keep them in place. I'm going to watch them very carefully, though, just to make sure."

"How long until I can use my hands?" Rodney asked, and John realized it was the first time he'd heard the man speak since the accident.

"It'll depend on how long it takes the bones to knit, but I would think two weeks is a good guess," Keller said. "The scanner will help a lot, I'll be able to see how you're healing without having to remove the casts each time."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you, McKay," John said, grinning. "I can deal with cutting up your food for you for a while."

"I'm going to teach you to touch type if it kills you," Rodney said darkly.

"Hey, I already do," John said, mock-insulted.

"Not fast enough, flyboy," Rodney said. "If you could type like you fly, then you might be in my league. Prepare to exercise your fingers."

***

"So, what you're saying is you clipped the wrong wire?" John asked, offering up a piece of pasta on a fork. Rodney grabbed it with perhaps a bit more vigor than necessary.

"Laugh it up," he bitched, chewing. "It didn't make any sense. That wire should have disconnected the ZedPM, not dropped the whole thing on my head."

John was very glad it hadn't been Rodney's head it dropped on, but he didn't want to inflate the other man's ego any more than absolutely necessary. He had enough of one as it was. "If it makes you feel any better, Zelenka went back with Lorne's team and a couple of winches and got it out."

"No, it doesn't make me feel better," Rodney said, snagging another forkful of pasta. John's forkful, but whatever. "It goes on his tally, not mine."

"You're competing on ZPM retrieval?" John asked, though he knew he shouldn't be surprised. He didn't know why anything that happened in Pegasus surprised him anymore.

"We compete over everything," Rodney said in a rare moment of self-awareness. "And I'd been winning, too." John couldn't help smiling indulgently as he fed Rodney more food to keep him from pouting. "Now we're tied."

***

"I hate this part," Rodney said, as John stepped up behind him and undid Rodney's fly.

"I thought you hated the fact that I can't type 65 words per minute," John said gently. It was torture being this close to Rodney all the time, but he would survive it. Somehow.

"That's close," Rodney said. "But this is so embarrassing." He closed his eyes, wincing, as John pressed his hand through the opening in Rodney's briefs and freed his cock.

"I have one, too, yanno," he said, as he lined Rodney up so he could piss. "I've been able to pee like a big boy since I was tall enough to see over the toilet tank." Rodney didn't laugh. "While I've got you partially naked, you want to take a shower?"

"Sure, why not?" Rodney said. "Get all the embarrassment in at once."

John pushed Rodney's pants and briefs down and knelt to help him out of his shoes and socks. Rodney leaned one forearm on his shoulder, and John forced himself to think about anything but what he normally imagined doing when kneeling in front of Rodney. "Keller says your hands are healing well, at least," he said, tossing Rodney's shoes, socks, pants, and briefs in the corner to clean up later and standing up.

"Thank God for small favors, right?" Rodney held his arms at his sides so John could slip his shirt off. He'd been forgoing uniform and wearing button-down shirts because they were easier to get out off than t-shirts.

"I'll take what I can get," John agreed. He wrapped Rodney's casts in plastic bags from the pile on the counter and stripped down, too, before turning on the shower. Atlantis tech being what it was, it took a wave of a hand and some focused thinking on Rodney's preferred temperature—warmer than John's—and they were ready to go.

***

As much as John enjoyed being able to touch Rodney's naked body, he wished it were under better circumstances, when Rodney wasn't furiously blushing the entire time—though it was kind of cute. And he really would have preferred it if Rodney were touching him back.

He forced himself to be detached, quashing the urge to stroke his hands over the body he'd helped shape over the last five years. Rodney was still a little soft around the middle, but John found it endearing. He was glad Rodney wasn't turning into a soldier, even if it could be frustrating in the field. It made him feel like the darkness of what they sometimes had to deal with hadn't been able to touch Rodney's core.

Rodney made a pained sound and John snapped back to attention, unsure what had happened. "Damn it," Rodney said. "Sorry."

John was about to ask when he realized: Rodney was hard. Achingly so, John would have guessed. "It's alright," he said. He had two options. He could laugh it off, or..."Let me," he said softly, resting his palm on Rodney's abdomen.

"Sheppard? What are you...?" Rodney squirmed a little, but he settled when John pressed up behind him and rested his chin on Rodney's shoulder.

"It's alright," John said, ignoring the niggling feeling that he was taking advantage. "Let me help you." He stroked the slightly furry skin below Rodney's belly button and then took his cock in hand.

"John!" Rodney bucked into his hand but didn't try to get away, so John started to stroke, paying close attention. The slight slickness from water made it smooth, so he increased the pressure of his grip incrementally until Rodney was shooting between his fingers. He brought his other arm up to wrap around Rodney's waist so he didn't fall. "Um, thanks."

"All part of the service," John tried to joke, letting himself cradle Rodney's spent cock for a moment before holding his dirty hand under the spray. He wanted to lick Rodney's come from his fingers, but he knew that would be too much.

Rodney grunted and moved away, and John knew it had been the wrong thing to say. "You didn't have to do that," he said stiffly.

"I know," John said, forcing himself to turn his back to Rodney and wash himself up. It also kept Rodney from seeing his hard-on. "But I wa—I don't mind." He lathered his hair quickly and closed his eyes, ducking his head under the spray. "If it makes you feel better, you can say you owe me one."

And Rodney was silent.


End file.
